I Will Keep the Bad Things From You
by x-the-rising-x
Summary: They both need to be saved, but neither of them realize that all that's keeping them from their downfall is each other. BL fic, taking place after 3x16
1. Concrete Sky

**I Will Keep the Bad Things From You**

_**Summary: **__A BL fic taking place after 3x16. Brooke's POV for the most part. Mainly about what they go through after Keith's death._

_**A/N: **__I'm not even going to apologize for starting another fic because I warned you all that I can't keep focus for very long. But DON'T WORRY – SOON ENOUGH IS NOT ON HIATUS. I'm going to start an update of that tonight. I don't know how long this fic will be yet, but it is NOT a one-shot_

_I love all you faithful reviewers who have read my other fics, and to anyone who has just stumbled upon this fic, please review, because they really brighten my day._

_THANK YOU to Cas, (__**imnotmark**__) who gave me this amazing title, which has been stolen from a song by The Damnwells. And to both her and Cami in general who listened to me go on for hours about how "g" this fic was going to be._

_And now I'm just wasting space to give the impression that this first chapter is longer than it is._

_OKAY OKAY HERE YOU GO_

_xo_

_Emma_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Concrete Sky

_Faith has a good side still everyone she ever loved they all turned bad. Constance his own way of breathing and you know_

_You couldn't will him to survive__  
Couldn't will him if you if you tried,_

_And there's a concrete sky, falling from the trees again and you know now why_

_It's not coming round too soon_

_ It's harder than a heartbreak too_

_ - Beth Orton_

Brooke Davis wakes up with a crick in her neck, and she wonders why her head is in such an awkward position. Sitting up, she has to blink a few times until she is completely aware of her surroundings. _Where is she? _She's lying across the backseat of her car, the dew on the rolled up windows clinging to the glass in the early morning air. As she pulls herself up all the way into a sitting position, she glances to the dashboard to read the digital clock.

_6:03. _Brooke can't remember the last time she's woken up at 6:03. She can remember the last time she _got home _at 6:03. She can remember plenty of those – falling into bed, still too drunk to take off her clothes, her eyes shutting just as the sunlight begins to creep through the window shades in her bedroom.

She climbs into the front seat, shivering beneath her jeans and sweatshirt. She glances into the rearview mirror and for a second she considers fixing her hair. Then she realizes that it _doesn't matter_. That it_shouldn't matter._ So with a sigh, she gathers the brunette waves into a high bun. Her eyes are bloodshot and red – a significant sign of her lack of sleep, but she doesn't care about that either.

She hesitates before opening the door, looking out over the humble house that she's parked in front of. It looks so dark, so lonely, so dreary. She wonders whether it would be best if she just drove home now. And then she realizes that she needs to see him. She needs to see that he's okay. She needs to do more than sleep in her car outside his house.

She opens the car door and steps onto the cool concrete of the sidewalk. She's met with a blast of cold air, and shivers slightly as she clutches her sweatshirt around her body tightly. Walking across the yard, the wet leaves crunch under her flip-flops, and she tries not to make noise as she ascends the porch steps.

His door pops out from the rest of the house with a deep black, and a pang in her heart reminds her of the deep red that used to line it. Before she completely _fucked up._ Brooke pauses with her hand on the doorknob, wondering why she's so nervous to just open the door. _She belongs here._

The door is unlocked, something she's grateful for as she steps into the dark room. The shades are pulled down over the windows, and her eyes immediately go to the bed. He's just lying there, on his side, turned away from her. But she knows he's awake because as she shuts the door behind her, he shifts, rolling on to his other side.

She pauses like a deer caught in the headlights, momentarily frozen. Even though the room is dark, she can see the sadness etched along his face. His blue eyes seem dull – they've lost their shine.

She just stands there for a minute, staring stupidly back at him, until he gives her a sad sort-of smile, speaking to her in a soft and scratchy voice.

"C'mere," Lucas croaks, lifting his arm up and beckoning to her. She obliges, moving across the room, crawling into his bed. She moves closer to him, snuggling into his chest, breathing in his scent _– _peppermint and soap.

"How are you?" she mumbles into him, before realizing what a stupid question that is.

He chuckles hoarsely. "I've been better."

-------------

She gets up after an hour, when she Lucas' breathing becomes steady, and his eyes drift close. She has to untangle herself from him, as he's wrapped himself around her tightly, his head tucked into her neck, his lips resting against her skin.

The kitchen is a mess – breakfast dishes from the day before (when everything was so_normal_) stalked high in the sink. A mug is shattered on the floor, coffee spilled over the linoleum. A cold uneasy feeling creeps over Brooke as she realizes Karen must have been drinking her morning coffee when she got the phone call that there was a gunman in the school holding people hostage, and that no one could find Lucas.

Brooke bends down to pick up the shattered glass, before retrieving the mop from the kitchen closet.

_"Brooke – this is a mop," he says with an amused grin as he pulls the mop from the closet._

_Her expression looks skeptical as she eyes the cleaning device._

_He laughs. "Here, I'll take evens, you take odds. I bet we can bust this thing out in like a half hour." _

_She looks up at him, pleasantly surprised. "Thanks, Luke."_

_"Anything for you."_

It's almost 8 as she finishes cleaning the kitchen, and she stands for a few moments in the hallway. Then she cleans the bathroom and the living room, not because either of them are particularly dirty – mainly because she wants something to do with her hands.

At one point Karen comes into the kitchen for some water, treading like a zombie across the floor. Brooke hides in the bathroom until her boyfriends mother retreats to her bedroom.

Brooke isn't very good with dealing with death.

-------------

He comes into the kitchen at about 10, in search of something to eat. He heads right for the cheerios, but Brooke gently leads him into a chair, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.

He stares blankly down. "What is this?"

"Breakfast," she says softly. "You haven't eaten since yesterday morning, Luke."

He pushes the plate away. "I'm not hungry. You eat them"

Brooke shuts her mouth to avoid protesting as he stands up and exits the kitchen. She winces slightly as his bedroom door slams. With a sigh, she scrapes the eggs and toast into the trash.

She wasn't very hungry either.

-------------

She locks herself in the bathroom around noon and dials Haley.

"Brooke?"

Brooke sobs something incoherent into the phone. It's her first breakdown since it happened, and she's hyperventilating, saying she can't handle this – she's not strong enough. Haley tries to calm her down, but Brooke isn't really listening. She's trying to stop her tears – she doesn't want him to hear her cry.

At the end of the hallway, Lucas opens his bedroom door. He stands for a moment, leaning against the wall. He can hear her strangled sobs creeping out from under the bathroom door, and he shuts his eyes tightly.

It breaks his heart.

-------------

_Please don't tell me I'm mad depressing. Cause Chey and I are the angst patrol._

_Deal with it. _


	2. For Blue Skies

**I Will Keep the Bad Things From You**

_**A/N: **__I Updated sooner than I thought I would, just cause I love this story a lot. You won't be waiting too long on Soon Enough, even though, yes, I know I said I would UD last night. _

_Patience is key._

_Thank you to all my lovelies, especially __**Cami, Chey, Cas, and Leah, **__who get the pleasure of listening to me ramble on about this story like 24/7. I thank you all for putting up with my antics._

_xo _

_Emma_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

For Blue Skies

_It's been a long year, since we last spoke_

_How's your halo?_

_Just between you and I_

_ You and me and the satellites _

_ I never believed you. I only wanted to, before all this _

_What did I miss? _

_ Do you ever get homesick? _

_ I can't get used to it _

_ - __**Strays Don't Sleep**_

The weekend goes by and on Tuesday, 4 days after the incident, the morgue calls.

Brooke is eternally grateful that she picks up the phone, rather than Lucas or, worse, Karen. She keeps her composure long enough to get out a few full sentences, and to hang up in a professional manner, but once the call is over she barely makes it to the bathroom before she's heaving into the toilet. Nothing comes out except water. It isn't until now that she realizes she hasn't eaten in two days. She sinks to the floor, leaning her back against the cool tile of the bathtub.

The knob to the bathroom door turns, and she doesn't have time to pick herself up off the floor before he's standing right there in the doorway. She looks up at him – taking in his wrinkled shirt and boxers – his facial hair starting to grow in ever so lightly, his hair mussed on the top of his head.

"Hey." His voice his raspy from his lack of speech in the past few days, but it still sounds soft and soothing as he kneels down next to her on the floor.

She feels ashamed for crying, and she feels ashamed for being so _fucking_tired, but as the tears pool down her face and she tries to brush them away with one hand, he takes her hand in his and tries to soothe her.

She feels ashamed that he has to rescue her, when right now, it should be the other way around.

-------------

She goes for a run later that afternoon, stopping by her eerily empty apartment to change into sweatpants and a vest. The cold air stings against her cheeks and she runs until her lungs burn, pushing all of her anger and exhaustion into the pavement beneath her.

The familiar ring of her cell phone interrupts her run, and she pauses by the side of the road to answer.

"Brooke?" Haley's soothing tone drifts across the line.

"Hey Hales," she breathes heavily, trying to catch her breath, putting a hand to the stich in her side.

"I was just calling you to check up on you. I stopped by the apartment yesterday to pick up some clothes to bring to Nathan's, and you weren't there."

"Yeah, I've been trying to help out Lucas and Karen."

Brooke wants to ask how Haley is, how Nathan is, how Deb is, before she realizes that the question in general is stupid. Nobody is fine. Nobody is gonna' _be _fine for a long time. So instead, she asks the next question that pops into her mind.

"Can I come over?"

-------------

Of course Haley doesn't object. Nathan is the one to answer the door, and he gives Brooke a soft and understanding nod, before once again ascending the stairs, calling for Haley, and locking himself in the bedroom.

There is a long much-needed hug and then Haley digs the ice cream out of the freezer, because they both agree it will make them feel better. Even so, neither of them are hungry (It's too cold outside for ice cream anyway) and it ends up sitting forgotten on the counter.

They curl up under the blankets in the living room, and turn on the TV. Nothings on but daytime soaps so they turn down the volume and start talking.

They talk for what seems like hours. In these moments, bundled warm and safe under the blankets in Haley's living room, listening to one of her best friends soothing voice move softly through the air, Brooke is happy. In these moments, she doesn't want to return to the cold, dark house, where the fiancé of the deceased isn't much but a shadow in her bed, and the nephew's eyes are blank, not really seeing much of anything anymore.

She doesn't want to be reminded.

The dark moves in, and Brooke sees Haley's eyelids begin to close. Brooke checks the time on her phone. It's 6:48.

"I should probably get going."

Haley doesn't object, just nods. They stand from the couch. "Hey," says Haley, taking Brooke's arm. "Have you been to see Peyton?"

A lump settles in Brooke's throat. She falters slightly. "No, uh, I haven't gotten a chance. I was thinking maybe tomorrow."

"Okay, well, I'll go with you. I haven't gotten a chance to see her yet either. I was gonna' wait until she got discharged – hospitals, you know, I hate them. But if you're going, I might as well."

"Yeah." Brooke gives a small fake smile. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

As she steps outside, she realizes that she's going to have to face what she's been avoiding all week. Seeing her best friend. It makes Brooke feel angry at herself, in a way. That she's basically ignored Peyton, who could have very possibly died, in favor of taking are of Lucas.

But is that really it? Is that really why she hasn't been to see Peyton? No, she ultimately admits to herself as she picks up a light jog. It's because if she steps into that hospital, smelling the sterile environment that makes her gag, she's going to feel guilty. If she has to see goldilocks lying in a hospital bed, with her leg bandaged up, she's going to feel guilty. If she has to be reminded that she just _left her best friend behind, _she's going to feel guilty.

She already feels guilty enough.

--------------

Instead of going back to Lucas', her feet propel her back to the apartment. She unlocks the door, steps into the chilly and empty living room, unzips her vest, and opens the refrigerator. Her hunger has finally crept up on her, but even as she digs into week-old sesame noodles and a diet coke, she doesn't feel any better.

Brooke figures that maybe she should just give Lucas some time. That maybe she's been too overbearing. Maybe he just needs space. So she turns on the television and tries to put her mind on something other than Lucas. But even though her favorite show is on, she can't really focus on Ross and Rachel, and whether or not they were on a break, so she turns off the TV and goes to bed.

It's 8:17.

She pulls on an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Crawling under the crisp and cold sheets, her hand brushes across the pillow on the left hand side that always smells like Lucas.

As she pulls the pillow close to her, and breathes in his smell of peppermint and soap, she all of a sudden feels very alone. The moonlight is shining in through the shades, sending stripes of light across her bed. The rest of the room is dark.

She tries to relax as her head falls across the pillow, but all Brooke can really concentrate on is the red light of her alarm clock.

8:19

8:24

8:37

Somehow she has fallen asleep because she awakes with a start when the door to the apartment slams shut. Sitting up in bed, Brooke glances quickly at the clock.

11:03.

"Brooke!"

She's a little more than shocked to hear Lucas' frantic voice echoing through the apartment.

"Brooke! Are you here?" His words sound strangled and on the edge of hysteria. She scrambled from the sheets and runs into the hallway.

"Luke, what's wrong?" She moves quickly to where he stands in the living room.

He sinks into a chair and grabs on to her arms. "I fell asleep, and when I woke up, you hadn't come back, and you weren't picking up your phone, and I…I just got so scared." His voice shakes and when he finally looks up at her, Brooke is stunned to see that he's crying.

"Broody," she says soothingly, putting her hands on his knees. "It's okay, I'm here."

He nods, trying desperately to swallow his tears. "Don't…just don't…" his voice shakes. "Don't scare me like that again. I – I can't lose you. Not you too."

She tilts his chin up. "Hey." He tries to look past her, but she forces him to put his eyes on her. "Hey," she soothes. "You are not going to lose me." Her last statement is firm, sure, because she knows he _needs _it to be sure.

She's caught off guard when his lips fall on to hers. It's not a peck, it's not emotionless. The kiss is soft, full. He lets his palm cup her cheek as she begins to cry as well, and tears mix along both their faces. He gently slips his tongue inside her mouth and she steps closer to him.

The kiss is long, and they both eventually break away in need for air. Their foreheads rest against each other, and they just stand like that for awhile, lost in each others eyes, lost in each others tears.

Eventually he takes her hand in his, leading her into the bedroom. They lay down in the sheets which don't feel nearly as cold anymore, and this time Brooke doesn't need the pillow to catch his scent – peppermint and soap.

He pulls her body as close as possible to his, and she lets him hold her as tightly as he needs to as they both drift into a long awaited peaceful sleep, because she's letting him know he's not going to lose her.

He _can't_lose her.


	3. The Funeral

_**A/N: **_Thank you for all your lovely reviews. It's been awhile since I updated either Soon Enough, or this, but I've had a crazy month, with school and swimming. I turned 15, yay!

Ok, I will stop rambling and give you the update. Thank yous are at the end.

(For fans of the BN friendship, you're in for a little treat).

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The Funeral

_I'm coming up only, to hold you under_

_I'm coming up only, to show you wrong _

_And to know you, is hard we wander _

_To know you all wrong – we won_

_Really to late to call so be waiting for _

_Morning to wake you, is hard begun _

_To know me as hard, be goin' mad _

_Is to know me all wrong, be mud_

_And every occasion ill be ready for the funeral _

_Every occasion once more its called the funeral _

_Every occasion of im ready for the funeral _

_And every occasion of one billion day funeral_

**_- Band of Horses_**

She's lying in her hospital bed, absentmindedly doodling with sharpie on her cast, when Brooke and Haley walk through the door.

"Peyton." Haley's voice sounds relieved as she moves quickly across the room and sits down next to Peyton on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

She doesn't want to whine – she doesn't. She doesn't want to tell them that she feels like shit – that she's been whacked out on painkillers for the past five days. She looks at Haley, who seems so concerned, and for a minute Peyton considers dumping all her problems on her. But then her gaze leaves Haley's – it travels to the brunette standing in the doorway.

"Hi girlie," Peyton says and Brooke drops her gaze to the floor. Peyton inspects her best friend. Brooke looks exhausted – dark circles line the bottoms of her eyes. She's wearing no make-up and her hair is pulled back in a messy bun. One of Lucas' sweatshirts covers her torso, and even though in a way that makes Peyton feel lonely, it also comforts her. This means that Brooke and Lucas are okay.

Brooke cautiously steps over to the two other girls. Peyton shifts her weight and Brooke sits gingerly down on the opposite side of the blonde. There is a silence between the three girls, and then Haley stands.

Haley knows the connection between the two girls, and she knows that their friendship existed long before they knew Haley. So she decides to give them a moment, and leaves the room.

Brooke finally lets herself look at Peyton, and all of a sudden she's crying. Peyton's expression softens and she pulls Brooke into a hug. Brooke clings to Peyton's hospital gown and the bed wracks with the brunette's sobs.

Brooke feels stupid and childish to be the one needing consoling, but the constant nagging anxiety that's been keeping a firm grasp on her for the past week comes pouring out. When she finally pulls away, a single tear slips down her face as she whispers in a low voice: "I'm so glad you're okay."

Brooke stays with Peyton for only a few more minutes. The blonde's speech keeps trailing off due to her medication, and Brooke is anxious to get back to Lucas. She leaves Haley with Peyton, and makes her way out to her car, which is parked at the very end of the parking lot.

Though she doesn't realize it until now, a year ago today she was at this very same hospital. But 365 days ago, she had a very concerned Lucas following behind her, badgering her about what the doctor said. Back then, at that moment, she had felt more alone than she ever thought possible. And she hasn't felt that lonely again until today.

It's stupid, really. She has Nathan, Haley, Peyton, her entire cheer squad, all her friends from school. But she's missing the one person that can fill that aching hole inside of her, the part of her heart that was ripped away sometime around the time her parents left her alone.

Lucas isn't physically gone, and in a way, they're more "together" than they ever have been. But he doesn't look _at _her anymore, he looks _through _her. And she wants him to want her, not to just need her.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

Brooke hasn't used the front door in awhile – she's just been coming and going through Lucas' room. But when she pulls up to the house, his blinds are pulled down and she considers the possibility that he might be taking a nap. Not wanting to disturb him, she pushed open the main entrance of the house and steps into the cool foyer.

The murmur of the TV meets her as she unzips her jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. She here's an obnoxious laugh track, and steals a glance into the living room.

Lucas is sitting on the couch, zoned out in front of Friends. Normally Brooke would cuddle up next to him and watch too, but it's almost as if there's an invisible barrier now, preventing her from touching him, or being with him.

He hasn't held her since he spent the night at her apartment. He probably would if she let him, but Brooke hasn't been sleeping much lately. She tosses, and turns, gets out of bed, rolls over. It's gotten so bad that she's started just going out to the living room and trying to fall asleep, with no success.

Instead, Brooke retreats to the kitchen, takes out the mop, and begins to clean again. She doesn't really realize that she's making a lot of noise, and taking out her frustration on the linoleum, when the TV switches off, and Lucas appears in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Leave it," he says, his voice scratchy and unused.

"It's fine, Luke," she responds.

"No, it's not." He walks over to her and tries to take the mop out of her hand, but she keeps a firm grip.

"It's fine."

"Brooke! Just stop!" he yells, and she drops the mop, startled. "This isn't helping!" He gestures to the kitchen. "This isn't going to _bring Keith back_!"

"What do you want me to do, Lucas?" she asks, and almost feels bad about the way she spits out his name. Hot tears of anger roll down her face. "I don't know whether you need me, or whether you need me to leave you alone!"

He opens his mouth as if he's going to say something, but then shuts it. He tightens his jaw, and for the first time in a long time, he looks _at _her.

Lucas steps forward, grabs onto her arms, and lets his lips crash onto hers. Brooke doesn't respond to the kiss, just lets him pry her lips open with his. And it doesn't last long – maybe only a few seconds, before she pushes him away forcefully.

"No." She doesn't say anything else, but that short, sharp word, cuts the silence like a knife. And for the first time in a long time, she walks away. Wordlessly, she retreats to the hallway, grabs her coat, and leaves the house, closing the door firmly behind her.

When Brooke leaves, Lucas stands in the kitchen for a few seconds, before rushing to the window. Peering out of the curtains, he sees her walk determinedly across the lawn to her car. She pauses, fumbling to find her keys in her coat, but then slowly crouches to the sidewalk. For a minute, he thinks she's dropped something, until he sees her shoulders begin to shake.

Brooke is crying.

He wont let himself look anymore, so he steps away from the window, and slams a fist into the wall of the kitchen. "_Fuck._" He's angry because he doesn't feel like he's strong enough to handle this. He's angry because he doesn't know how to comfort his mother. He's angry because he couldn't save Keith. And he's angry because he made his pretty girl cry, and all he wants to do is hold her, and let himself love her, but somehow he can't.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

Brooke is sitting in her car, attempting to apply her mascara in the tiny rearview mirror. She realizes, as a tear falls onto the rough satin of her black dress, that she's more scared than sad. She's afraid to see Lucas, because she has not returned to his house since their fight – a week. Brooke's been sleeping at Haley and Nathan's for the past few nights, because she kept having anxiety attacks when she would wake suddenly in the middle of the night, overridden with guilt over her fight with Lucas, and also guilt over the fact that she hadn't gone to see Peyton again.

As she makes her way up the hill, she realizes that she's the first to arrive at the burial service. Though there are benches to sit on around the cemetery, for some reason she chooses to kneel on the dew-covered grass.

Being nearer to the earth sets a certain calm over her, and she isn't even aware of her words before they come spilling out.

"Hey Keith." She puts a hand on the ground, and feels ridiculously foolish for doing this. The casket isn't even here yet, and it's not like she believes in the afterlife or anything, but somehow this feels right. "I know you can't hear me or anything, but I just want to let you know how much I miss you. And how much everyone misses you – Haley and Nathan, and Peyton, and especially Luke and Karen." She runs her hand across the wet grass. "And I'm trying my hardest to take care of Lucas, but he aches for you so much, and I don't know what to do to help his pain." She pauses and another tear slips out of her eye. "But…but I just wanted to thank you, for saving him. I – god, I don't know what I'd do without him. And thank you, also, thank you for believing in me. You always believed in me, and I've never doubted that you loved who I was."

"Brooke." The strangled voice startles her, and she turns around, quickly standing.

It's Lucas, standing there in his suit and messy tie, and she swears she can see tears in his eyes. He extends his arm, and she lets him pull her towards him. But instead of kissing her, he lets his lips fall across her hair, wrapping his arms around her frame, and breathing in deeply.

And for a minute, everything feels okay.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

People begin to arrive, and once the casket is carried up the hill, the world slowly begins to fall away from Brooke, piece by piece. She drifts in and out of awareness, her mind wandering to distant memories of Keith. Like when Keith made pancakes for her and Lucas one Sunday morning when she "came over" for breakfast (although Keith wasn't exactly dumb enough to not realize that she had spent the night). It had been just the three of them and Karen, yet somehow Brooke had more fun than she'd had in a long time.

She closes her eyes when Lucas steps up to throw dirt over the coffin, and feels a wave of claustrophobia rolling over her, before it disappears and her consciousness returns.

Then it's all over, and people are talking quietly, descending the hill, making their way to their respective cars. But Brooke just stands there, looking at the large mound of dirt, slightly dazed. She's surprised when it's Nathan that walks over to her.

"You okay?"

She snaps out of her reverie and gives him a small smile. "Yeah, its just weird. I was trying to think of the last time I talked to him, and I can't remember."

Nathan nods. "I've been trying to remember for the past week and a half, and I can't either. I think it was the last basketball game we had, but I honestly don't know." He shrugs. "It's weird."

"Yeah…"

She's pleasantly surprised when Nathan pulls her into a hug, and wraps his arms around her. People looking in from the outside, who weren't aware of the history between Brooke and Nathan wouldn't think they were good friends. But truthfully, the veins connecting them run far before the beginning of high school, way back to when they were toddlers and their families would get together for dinner once a week. Nathan had been Brooke's first kiss, in eighth grade, during a game of truth or dare. They both had crushes on each other through middle school, and until freshman year, the two of them and Peyton were inseparable. But then he and Peyton began dating, and Nathan and Brooke's relationship sort-of fell apart.

It's easier to pretend that she doesn't miss him when they're not hanging out. But in moments like these, when he hugs her, and is so insanely protective over her (in an older brother kind-of way), she wants to take back the prior three years of high school when she shut him out.

Then the hug is over, and Nathan kisses her head, and disappears to go find Haley, and Brooke's attention refocuses on the other Scott. The broody blonde, who, she sees, is currently fumbling to open his car door.

Brooke descends the hill quickly, and sees Karen already sitting in the backseat, staring blankly out the window. Lucas' hand is shaking so much that he can't fit the key in the lock to the driver's side door, so Brooke gently takes the keys from his hand.

Lucas doesn't even object, just crosses to the passenger's side, and opens the car door. Brooke slides into the drivers seat and starts the car. With every turn of the car wheels, they are taken further away from the cemetery, and with every turn of the car wheels, Brooke can breathe a little better.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

**Cas (imnotmark):** This space is reserved for you when you actually review. Until then, it's staying blank. (I still love you).

**Linkie:** You come first because your review was PHENOMENAL. Thank you so so so so so so much. I love getting big fat long reviews. 3 they make my day. You nailed my exact emotions and what I wanted to portray with the last scene. YAY!

**Jeytonbrucasnaley (Chey):** CHEYBABE. My muse, my lovely one, my twinny poo writer girlie (shall I stop?) Thanks for the review babe. ANGST PATROL FOR LIFE.

**FinallyPJ (Ali):** Hunny, you know I love you and your loyalty to my fics. Thanks for the review, doll.

**B. Davis:** Cami! I love you. And I'm glad you liked the last scene, it was my favorite scene to write, possible ever. And we know Markie's a deusche bag.

**Dolcegrazia (Leah):** Love you babe. And I'm glad this pulled you in more.

**lucas4brooke4ever (Vicky):** I love you! Your so cute. Thanks for the review doll.

**Broody-N-Cheery-4Ever (Brit):** BRIT! I love you! Thank you for the review, and I'm so glad you liked the last scene.

**Riley06:** I agree. They totally should have focused more on Brooke on the show.

**Clanaforeva:** I wanted the story to be a little darker, so I'm glad you noticed that.

**whiters** Yay! For Blue Skies 3

**brucas333:** I think we all forgot about Peyton….lmao 3

**jc4127:** I decided to keep it all in Brooke's POV, and I'm glad you noticed. She is an integral character that should have been focused on more after Keith's death.

**sweetestsin1223**: Thank you so much! It's so nice to hear when people tell you that you've got the character's emotions in check. ;)

**brucasbrathanbaleybrachel:** I always remember that you review my fics cause of your ridiculously long amazing username. I love you for your loyalty! I'm glad you liked the last scene.

**awhero:** Another loyal reader! You read my other fics too, right? Thank you so much for the lovely review.

**HalesnLukeBFF4ever:** I'm glad that you're reading the fic, even though you aren't a hardcore BL fan. BH are cute, I love them too! I want some more BH later in the story, so you may be in for a treat.

**Brucas True Love, BRUCAS EQUALS LOVE, MalibuBarbie253 , broodyprettygirl, wtlozy , Brucas2006, brucasforever77, catcat51092, brucas224, princetongirl, B.P.Davis:** Thank you all! You reviewers are what make my day.

SORRY IF I FORGOT ANYONE.

Review because you love me. And I love you all too ( if you review ).


	4. Damaged

**I Will Keep the Bad Things From You**

_**A/N: **_Finally, I know. I'll keep it short and just say thanks to **Lynn **(my lovely beta)and **Chey **(my co-founder of the Angst Patrol)for reading parts of this over for me.

By the way, this story is fairly short and will only have 2 or 3 more chapters.

And I love you all

**Chapter 4**

Damaged

_Dreaming comes so easily_

_'Cause it's all that I've known_

_True love is a fairy tale_

_I'm damaged, so how would I know_

_I'm scared and I'm alone_

_I'm ashamed, and I need for you to know_

_I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say_

_And you can't take back what you've taken away_

_'Cause I feel you, I feel you near me_

_- _**Plumb**

Brooke follows Lucas into his bedroom, and she refrains from asking him whether he's okay or not. Instead, she just gently guides him into a sitting position on the bed.

"Here," she says, and pulls the tie off his neck, placing it around hers. She walks to the mirror, and her fingers fumble across the material of the tie. Looking up, she can see him watching her in the mirror, and for some odd reason, she blushes.

It's the way that he looks at her sometimes that makes her feel extremely vulnerable and naked. Like he's not just looking at the bright and cheerful façade she so expertly puts on. But that, even through his angst and depression, he can still see who she is.

Sometimes it scares her that when she's around him, she can't hide from her true self.

But if he didn't love who she was, she wouldn't be here right now. She wouldn't be gesturing him over, and placing the tie over his head, and tightening it around his neck. She would just be another friend, like Haley, or like Nathan, neither of whom he's talked to since before the shooting. She wouldn't be sleeping in his bed at night, and she wouldn't have been the shoulder he cried on when he stumbled across an old photo album of him and Keith.

There wouldn't be a 'Brooke and Lucas,' there wouldn't be a 'broody and cheery,' there wouldn't be a 'botfriend and pretty girl.'

"There wouldn't be an us," she mumbles as she finishes with the tie.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," she replies, with an inward, sad smile.

She's clinging onto his arm, while they make their rounds through the house, talking to distant relatives, and friends from school. Karen's parents tell her it's so good to finally meet her, and if she weren't so exhausted, she probably would have noticed the way that Lucas squeezed her hand tighter and seemed to wear a proud smile on his face when introducing her to his grandparents.

They're standing in the foyer, talking to some second cousin, twice removed, when Peyton walks through the door. And to see her best friend on crutches is only slightly better than seeing her lying in a hospital bed. Brooke loosens her grip on Lucas' arm for the first time that afternoon and brushes past faceless mourners to Peyton.

"Hi buddy," the brunette says, and the words come out more fake and childish then she had hoped. "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately, I've just been with Lucas and Karen."

"Of course," Peyton replies with a nod, not acknowledging the fact that Brooke hadn't called or visited in a week.

"Do you want me to get you something, or…" Brooke's words trail off into nothing, the sentence of a girl trying to relieve her guilt, although she seems to have forgotten that the phone goes both ways, and that Peyton hasn't called either.

"No, I just came to see Karen," the blonde says in a quiet voice, and moves past Brooke.

"Peyton," Brooke says, and the blonde turns. "I'm really glad you're okay."

Another nod, and Peyton is now walking past Lucas. Brooke sees the glance that the two share, and although no words are exchanged, this weird twinge of jealousy flares up inside of her.

She wishes it would go away.

-

"It just hurts _everywhere, _Peyton." Those are her first words as she kicks off her shoes and crawls into bed with her best friend, without so much of a hello.

The blonde rolls over on her side, scooting closer to Brooke and sighing. "I know how you feel."

"But at least you have an _excuse _to be in pain. You got shot." Her words are blunt but Peyton laughs nonetheless.

"The pain in my leg is the least of it," she says in a softer tone, looking up at the ceiling, rather than at Brooke.

Brooke puts a hand on her friend's shoulder, and rolls onto her side. "What's wrong, Sawyer."

"Brooke, do you remember last year when you found out about me and Lucas?" She hates to bring it up but plows through anyway. "Do you think you would have been less angry if I'd been up front right away?"

Brooke sighs, and it's her turn to look at the ceiling. "Part of me wanted to forget that it had ever happened and go back to being the blissfully unaware ditz. But we all have to face our demons, Peyton, and yeah, I think it would have been better for all of us if you had told me about the two of you right away."

They'd never really spoken about it, not since last year when the extent of their discussions was snide comments from Brooke and pathetic pleas from Peyton. And Peyton _hates _to bring it up, but it feels needed – necessary.

"What's up, P?" Brooke asks after Peyton falls silent for a minute or two.

"I…I can't have you hate me for this, Brooke, because I _can't _lose you again. I just _can't._ That's why I'm hesitant in telling you."

Brooke props herself up on her elbow. And stares at Peyton intently, although Peyton can see, even in the dark of the room, the uncertainty and fear in her hazel eyes.

"You're kind-of freaking me out, blondie," Brooke says with a nervous laugh.

"I kissed Lucas." The words fall out, rushed, and awkward, and for a good 10 seconds, no one says anything.

-

"Oh."

She's gone numb. Quite physically, she feels like she can't move. And she starts to feel like she's having one of those anxiety attacks she used to have as a kid. Only this time, she kicks herself on the inside, because really all this numbness is over a stupid high school love triangle – two girls, and a boy.

_My boy. _

She's not even angry. Not in the slightest. She's just crushed, heartbroken. So the next words she says aren't even overdramatic. They feel real, true, raw.

"I can't really blame you. Or him. I mean, the boy I love, protected the girl I love. And it's the girl he loves too." The last words barely fall from her lips before Peyton is speaking.

"You can't think like that, Brooke." The blonde stares at her but Brooke keeps her eyes on the ceiling. "Look, I care about Lucas, and I always will. But I kissed him because I thought I was going to die. And he saved me. He _always _saves me. And maybe that's what kept me clinging to him for so long. Not love. Security." She pauses, and is about to speak again before realizing she doesn't have anything else to say."

She hears Brooke sigh in the bed next to her, and it _kills _Peyton that her best friend hurting.

"It's fine, Peyton," Brooke says, although she doesn't sound very convincing. "It's not a big deal."

"Brooke – I know you get worried about me and Lucas, and I get it. We hurt you really bad last time. But he's _insanely _in love with you." Peyton sits up in bed now. "And you know what – so am I. You're my Brooke! I'm _not _gonna' hurt you again."

"Okay." This time, Brooke's words sound more convincing and solid, but then she gets up from the bed. "I need to go find Lucas."

She's gone before Peyton can say goodbye.

-

She's disappeared again. She's started sleeping on the couch at night, though he doesn't know why, so she probably assumes that he doesn't notice her leaving.  But he does. He can feel the lack of her presence when she slips out the door at 9, 10, 11 o'clock, and the house feels empty without her. He's come to realize that he misses her.

Tonight she leaves early and he's wide awake when he hears the door of the kitchen gently close behind her and the sound of her car as it starts up and drives off down the street. It's strange, because in an odd way, he's jealous of something that can't breathe, speak, or live. He's jealous of the nighttime, which swallows her up and takes her away from him.

He doesn't want to follow her, because he knows that she probably needs her space. So instead, after an hour or two of tossing and turning, he leaves the house too. And goes to the one place that he's always been able to heal.

The night is a little misty and so the Rivercourt seems hazy and eerie as he steps out from Keith's old car. He grabs the ball from the passengers seat and begins to shoot around, relishing in the sound of rubber against concrete.

At one point he looks out of the corner of his eye and sees her sitting on the picnic table with her feet on the bench. She's dressed in black sweats with a purple tank top under her sweater and a pair of white running shoes that for some reason make him smile. When he turns around for another free throw, he speaks up.

"You know it's pretty creepy to sneak up on someone like that," he says, with half a smile as the ball goes swooping through the net.

She stands up and walks over to him. Her hair has curled in the humidity and she folds her arms across her chest in a way that makes her seem more vulnerable than defensive.

"Where'd you go?" He asks, turning back to the hoop to send the ball flying through the air again. He wants to sound casual, but wonders if he came off as too curious. Then he realizes that she's his girlfriend, and he doesn't need to worry about sounding like a needy crushed out teenager. Then he realizes that she's started to talk.

"I was at Peyton's."

"Oh."

"She told me."

His heart plummets, because somehow he knows what she's talking about. And instead of apologizing profusely, which would be the most logical thing to do, he mutters "yeah, sorry about that," without even looking at her.

"I just – don't know how you couldn't tell me," she says, and her voice cracks on the last part of her sentence.

It _kills _him.

"You wouldn't understand – you weren't there."

"Hey!" she says, and he's surprised by the new fire in her voice. "I may not have been _in _that building, but that doesn't mean that I don't _feel _anything. That doesn't mean I don't carry that day around like _everybody _else."

"I'm sorry," he replies again, only this time in a softer tone. This time, he would give anything to take her in his arms and comfort her, because he's starting to see one, no, two tears fall from her eyes. But this time, she walks away.

-

He feels like he's a nomad, driving around the oddly empty town, but he doesn't want to go home. Not now, anyway. Because he knows if he goes home now, she won't be there, and he'll be reminded of her hurt expression when she left the Rivercourt.

Nathan and Haley's house is dark, but he doesn't feel bad about ringing the doorbell so late at night. Lately, he doesn't feel bad about much of anything. He's kind-of taken it for granted, so he's a little shocked when Haley answers the door and no sympathy registers across her face.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

"No," she replies, firmly. "Lucas," she continues, her voice softening, "you can't keep going on like this."

"Like what?" he asks, suddenly angry, although he knows he doesn't have a right to be.

"Brooke just stopped by."

"Oh." Suddenly he feels empty and alone. He needs to see her. "Where did she go?"

Haley looks at him, and seems to be deciding between telling him off, and comforting him. She sighs, choosing neither. "I don't know," she says softly, fingering the material of her pajama bottoms. Then she reaches into the pocket of her sweater and pulls out a familiar tin box. She opens it, and hands him the slip of paper on the top. "I went to the roof today and found this."

He unfolds the piece of loose-leaf and glances at the first thing written, before looking up at Haley.

"Your predictions, Luke. The first one's already come true. Maybe you should keep it that way."

Haley closes the door without a goodbye, and he just stands there staring at the paper, before coming to a conclusion and heading back to his car.

_This year I'll try again with Brooke. _

-

He's looked everywhere for her – the apartment, the café, the quad at school, the benches on the boardwalk – everywhere. And now it's 1:00 AM and he's been searching for 2 hours. Lucas parks back on his own street, and turns the ignition off, defeated. Wherever she is, she clearly doesn't want to be found.

He enters the house, and it's quiet again. His mom had been in a surprisingly coherent mood this afternoon, despite the fact that it was the day of the funeral, mainly because the presence of other people at the wake made her feel less alone. That's how Lucas felt, anyway.

Walking into his bedroom, he's half-shocked, and half relieved to find his girlfriend on her side in his bed. She's kicked off her shoes and her white-socked toes twitch slightly. He smiles.

"Hey pretty girl," he says.

She turns, and he loves to see that she smiles. "Hey," she replies, speaking in that scratchy way of hers. "I was gonna' sleep in my car, but I heard a noise and I think it might have been a bear or something."

She's adorable. "Well where were you parked?" he asks through a laugh.

"Right outside here."

"Well," he says, crawling up the bed so his face is level with hers. "Have I told you how much I love you today?"

She's rolled onto her back, and his side is pressed up against hers. He lets his hand come to rest on her stomach, and the gesture seems sweet and innocent. "Not really."

It breaks him to see the expression on her face. Her make-up is smudged, and she looks exhausted. He just wants to kiss her, and hold her, and love her, and protect her. "Well I do. And even when I don't say it, it means a lot to know you're here. It," he lowers his eyes "means everything."

"I am here," she almost whispers. "We both are," she finishes, nudging him.

"I know…It feels good being here – especially with you." He closes his eyes and rests his chin on her arm, content to stay in this position forever.

But she has more to say.

"I wish that it was me."

He doesn't get it.

"I know that's horrible, and I know that's selfish, but, I watched you rescue Peyton from the library, and you told me you rescued Dan, and sometimes I just wish you could rescue me."

She's pouring her heart out – releasing her insecurities on him. And he wants to tell her so much, but he doesn't know how.

Almost instantly, he responds. "From what?" he asks, challenging her.

She doesn't get it. Brooke Davis doesn't need to be rescued. She never has. She's so _fucking _independent, that sometimes it upsets _him _that he doesn't know how to rescue her.

"From all of it."

He sees it now, her shell slowly falling apart, revealing her build up emotion from the past few weeks. And god, he just wishes that they could run away, and that he would never have to see another face but hers.

If he told her that, she would probably laugh at him and tell him to stop being so intense.

"Okay then. I will." She smiles, probably because she knows he would say anything to make her happy. And he would. "If you, promise to rescue me back…"

He's being playful now, running his hand across her wrist, and she smiles. Right now, her smile is the only thing that matters in the world.

"I promise." The way she says it is so sincere, so truthful, an honest reply to a playful and flirty statement. So he cups her cheek in his hand and places a soft kiss on her lips.

And as she slowly folds into his arms and they begin to whisper of trivial things that make them both smile, he swears that he can see the pain in her eyes disappearing.


	5. You're Still the One

**I Will Keep the Bad Things From You**

_**A/N: **_So here is the **last **chapter. I always intended this fic to be fairly short, but I have to say I'm kind-of glad its over. And before you start reading, I just want to thank everyone who reviewed, because in a way, this fic means more to me than Soon Enough. Yes, it has less traffic, but I'm just glad to be telling the story of post 3x16 the way Mark _didn't. _Also, I want to give a big shout-out to **Lynn, **who I could have never done this without, and who is always there to help me with my writing, and who always believes in me. 

Anyway, farewell!

IIIIIIIIIIIIIII

**Chapter 5**

You're Still the One

_When I first saw you, I saw love._

_And the first time you touched me, I felt love._

_And after all this time, you're still the one I love_

_**- Shania Twain**_

It's been 3 weeks. 3 long weeks. 3 weeks, and Brooke doesn't even know when each day begins and ends. When moonlight fades into daylight, when the sun rises and when it sets. When she sleeps, when she wakes. 

It's March. Rainy, cold, dreary. She stands at the corner, looking down the street on which no cars appear. After all, it's 8am on a Sunday morning, and most people are sleeping in, or perhaps just getting home from the night before. 

She doesn't sleep much anymore, but she's also realized that she doesn't need it. She's started to play games with herself at night, seeing how long she can lie awake for, and how few hours of sleep she can get and still be functional in the morning. Brooke wonders whether Lucas has realized it, but she guesses probably not. Somehow, he sleeps. He isn't afraid of the night, a phobia she has recently developed. She doesn't like the darkness. She doesn't like closing her eyes, and not knowing for sure whether she'll ever open them again.

She turns when the front door slams. Lucas trudges out, looking like a little boy, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He's actually changed his sweats from the ones he wore to bed, and he had let Brooke bring a shaver to his unruly locks, so his hair has been cropped short – just the way she likes it. 

"Why are we running again?" he asks her, whining a bit.

Brooke just laughs and shakes her head, ponytail swinging from side to side. "Exercise. Endorphins. It makes you feel good."

"I know something else that can make me feel good," he says, kinking an eyebrow and sidling up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She giggles and pushes him away playfully. "Not gonna' work. C'mon, I'll race you."

They run. For a while the only sound is their feet hitting the pavement, and their heavy and unsteady breathing. But then, Lucas speaks. 

"How've you been?"

The question seems so odd, formal, and out of the blue, that Brooke is taken aback at first. And then she realizes it's quite a legitimate question. Despite the fact that she's spent a good ¾ of the past three weeks with her boyfriend, they haven't really talked. And as soon as he speaks, Brooke realizes she's missed him. 

_Looks like we made it_

_Look how far we've come my baby_

_We mighta took the long way_

_We knew we'd get there someday_

She shrugs her shoulders and they pick up the pace a little, the noise of their soles on the concrete gaining volume. "Good. Fine, I guess."

She steals a glance over at Lucas and spots a flash of concern on his face. "How was school on Friday?"

Right. Friday. It had been the first day school was back since the shooting…

_"Hey," Haley's voice is soft and tired as she approaches the brunette at her locker, laying a hand on Brooke's shoulder. _

_"Hi tutorwife," Brooke responds, relishing in the hug Haley administers to her. "How have you two been?" she looks up to Nathan, who's standing a few feet behind Haley. _

_"I was gonna' ask you the same question. We haven't seen you in a while."_

_"I know." Brooke sighs. "I've just, been with Lucas."_

_Nathan nods. He understands. "Speaking of, where is Luke?"_

_The dimpled 17-year old sags. "I thought he was going to come – he told me he was yesterday. But today he wouldn't get out of bed – he just said he would come Monday."_

_Haley gives Brooke a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "It's going to take time."_

_Time. It's going to take time. That's all anyone says to her anymore, and Brooke just wants to scream that she _knows. _She isn't impatient or eager to move past this all, and she of all people knows that this is going to take time. She's pretty sure it's them that don't. _

_"Yeah. Listen, I gotta' go. Guidance counselor." Waving the slip of paper in the air is her only explanation, as Brooke turns to go, and disappears around the corner in the hallway, leaving Nathan and Haley behind, as the bell signifying the start of the period rings. _

IIIIIIIII

_"I hope this doesn't feel too forced, Ms. Davis," says Mrs. Evans, the young guidance counselor, as she offers Brooke the chair on the opposite side of the desk. _

_Brooke sits down awkwardly, placing her bag on the floor, and choosing to stare at a chipped portion of the desk._

_"It's just, we decided that we should check in with all the students when they returned to school, just to see how everyone is emotionally."_

_"That seems reasonable." She doesn't mean to sound as monotone as she does, but she realizes that Ms. Evans probably takes it that way, because the guidance counselor clears her throat and looks down at the papers on her desk._

_"So, you're currently in a relationship with Keith Scott's nephew?"_

_Brooke just nods, not wanting to know how the administration knows this. _

_"How have the events of three weeks ago affected you? It must be difficult keeping a relationship afloat in light of the circumstances."_

_Brooke shrugs. "It's not so bad."_

_Ms. Evans probably assumed she'd get a more bubbly Brooke Davis. Brooke Davis, Student Body President and captain of the Raven's cheerleaders. Not Brooke Davis, mourning girlfriend of Lucas Scott, nephew of the deceased. But if she was in any way surprised by this unusual version of Brooke, she didn't let it show – simply moved on to the next question. _

_"What emotions are preoccupying your mind these days?"_

_Brooke contemplates the question and decides to give an honest answer. "I'm exhausted," she says, looking up. "Tired and cranky, and I can't sleep. Sad, anxious, depressed, lonely, confused, incoherent and dazed. Currently, I feel all of that."_

_Her voice cracks on the last syllable and she breaks eye contact with the counselor. Out of habit, Brooke reaches a hand up to fidget with the necklace dangling against her skin. _

_"Where's the necklace from?" It's clearly the only question Ms. Evans can think of right now, and this time, Brooke smiles sadly. _

_"Lucas gave it to me for our anniversary last month."_

_"How long have you two been together?" Ms. Evans asks softly. _

_"Almost six months."_

_She's just another student. Another student that this temporary crisis counselor they brought in has to evaluate. And Brooke realizes, that as Ms. Evans scribbles away on her page of notes, despite everything thought to the contrary (that this calm and toned down existence is just a phase), that this Brooke Davis is here to stay. _

They said, "I bet they'll never make it"

But just look at us holding on

We're still together still going strong

IIIIIIIII

She lies, instead of forcing to tell the truth. "School was fine. I missed you, though," she adds as an afterthought. 

They run some more, and Brooke's forgotten how long it's been, and how far they've gone. It starts to rain, but they don't stop, simply splash through the puddles and run faster, like little kids attempting to dodge bullets.

Apparently they've run in a loop, because some how they're back at Lucas' house. The rain is coming down harder now, and Brooke aims for the house, but looks back after a few seconds when she realizes that Lucas isn't with her. 

He's standing on the corner, looking somewhat put out. Worried, Brooke moves over to him, and gently touches him across the shoulder. 

"You okay?" 

He nods. "It's just, I haven't really thought about him much, Keith. I mean, I've remembered him, and I've realized that he's gone, but I haven't really thought of him."

She's confused, but she doesn't show it. Instead, she takes his hand, and they sit down, right there on the curb, feet in the gutter. They are both silent for a but, and then Brooke lies her head on his shoulder. 

"Talk to me, Luke," she whispers with a sigh. 

When he finally speaks, it's in a strangled voice that just _kills _her. "I just, haven't thought of him presently. Like, where he is now." He turns to her, lost, broken, confused. Searching for answers. "Where do I put him, Brooke?"

She breathes in deeply. In that moment her lack of faith in any superior being doesn't matter. The fact that she believes Keith to be gone, just, gone, an idea that scares her to no extent, doesn't matter. All she sees are blue eyes, blonde hair, and a lost soul. A beat, and then Brooke lays a hand over Lucas' heart. 

"Put him everywhere."

_You're still the one_

_You're still the one I run to_

_The one that I belong to_

_You're the one I want for life_

IIIIIIIII

He follows her through his side door, into his bedroom, and they both trail water across the floor, but neither of them care. They had sat on the corner for 15 minutes, just talking, working through their different emotions, and in those 15 minutes, he had laughed and cried, both more than once. 

Brooke pulls off her sweater, planning to shower. She's laughing about something, but Lucas can't remember what. He just realizes that he's missed her smile, and her laugh. Her dimples, the way her eyes light up when she's happy. 

She disappears into the bathroom, and he already misses her. Aches for her. Pulling his shirt over his head, he follows. 

He catches Brooke right before she steps into the tub. She's stripped down to just her sports bra and sweats, and her hair is wet and tangled, hanging down well past her shoulders. She's got rosy cheeks and tired circles under her eyes, but he's never wanted her more. 

Lucas grabs a hold of her arm, and as she turns, he meets her in a soft kiss. She seems pleasantly surprised, and abandons her efforts to turn on the stream of water, instead reciprocating, pushing her lips harder against his. 

He backs her up against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and their tongues meet in a mess of warmth and wetness. He savors the crevices of her mouth, remembers how much he loves the softness of her lips. 

When they break apart after a few minutes, he lays his forehead against hers. "God I missed you," he whispers against her skin, in a way that makes her ache and crave for him, and his fingers dance to the bottom edges of her sports bra.

Brooke hesitates briefly, but then seems to come to a decision. Lifting her arms over her head, she gives him permission to pull the material off her body. Throwing the bra to the floor, he leans in and kisses her once more, spanning her waist with his fingers and pressing his bare chest flush up against hers. 

She sighs against his lips and runs her fingers through his short hair. Lucas, in one fell swoop, lifts her into the air, and her legs immediately and subconsciously wrap around his waist. With the greatest of ease, he moves into the bedroom, and gently lies her down across his bed, tenderly moving on top of her as her lips extend upwards to meet his. 

Seconds pass. Maybe minutes. Lucas has lost track of time, and the only thing in the world to him is the girl lying beneath him. But finally, he pulls away, and presses his fingers against her swollen lips, his eyes narrowing with a kind of sadness. 

Brooke props herself up on her elbows and meets his gaze, completely comfortable at sitting topless in front of him. "What is it?"

Lucas supports himself with his own elbows, and reaches out to run a hand through her hair. "Nothing, it's just, sometimes it hurts how much I love you."

Cheesy? Yes. But honest nonetheless, and Brooke's eyes fill with tears. 

"I just, I – I _can't _lose you. You have to know that."

It's something he's reiterated to her more than once over the past few weeks, but she doesn't realize until now how serious he is. 

"You aren't going to lose me," she responds firmly. 

"But, I am _never _going to let anything happen to you, okay?" He seems so young and pure there, and Brooke's heart breaks at his words. 

"Luke, you can't save me from everything," she says softly. 

"I can try," he says, laying one, two, three kisses across her eyes, cheeks, nose and face. And then he's kissing her everywhere, down her neck, through the valley between her breasts, past her navel. It's lips and skin against lips and skin, whimpers and sighs, the sound of clothing being peeled off of wet bodies. It's her hand slamming against the headboard as he finally enters her and she bites her lip with a long suppressed moan. It's the feel of each other's presence so wholeheartedly, and the soft simplicity as they both arrive and tumble over the edge amongst quiet sighs and kisses. 

_You're still the one_

_You're still the one that I love_

_The only one I dream of_

_You're still the one I kiss good night_

IIIIIIIIII

It's a whole different world out here, yet Brooke feels less detached than when they were still in Tree Hill. Because now she's surrounded by people trying to live in the present, and not dwell in the past. She's surrounded by friends, friends who would give up almost anything for her. She even has Rachel, who Brooke has learned to thank and appreciate for this weekend. 

But most of all, she has Lucas. 

Something has changed between the two of them. Haley is the first to notice it, but when she mentions it to Nathan and Peyton, they both agree. Brooke and Lucas aren't quite the same couple they used to be. 

Sure they are still the horndogs they were before the shooting, dancing so ridiculously suggestively at the Sunkist club night that Haley had to pull them apart, and forgetting to lock doors, resulting in a very disgusted Nathan walking in on them in a compromising position Saturday afternoon. But they've calmed down. The young, angsty, hyperactive love between the two of them seems to have faded into something much quieter, and more beautiful.

_Ain't nothin' better_

_We beat the odds together_

_I'm glad we didn't listen_

_Look at what we would be missin'_

They will be at breakfast, Brooke eating her cheerios and Lucas munching on oatmeal, and they won't even be talking to each other, but Peyton will walk by and notice their hands intertwined under the table. Or during a ridiculous conversation one night about who has been caught having sex where, a quick glance will pass between Brooke and Lucas. A memory that they choose to not blurt out loud, because it's between the two of them. It's sacred. 

They disappear after dinner on Sunday night, and it's understood amongst the friends to not ask where they're going. To just let them be. 

They make their way out to the back porch, and Lucas pulls Brooke, along with a blanket, down on top of him on the porch swing. The stars are out, and the setting is the epitome of romantic, so romantic that neither of them want to go back inside. 

They kiss for awhile, just because they enjoy the taste of each other, and Lucas traces patterns on her shoulder underneath the blanket. When they finally pull away, they just lie there, enjoying each other's presence, until Lucas speaks up. 

"You see that star?" he asks, pointing up into the sky. 

Brooke giggles. "Broody, there are like a million stars."

"Try a trillion," he murmurs into her skin. "But just pretend that I'm pointing to a specific one, okay? Do you see it?"

He can feel her smiling as she nods. "I see it."

"How would you feel if I told you that star was called Pretty Girl?"

Brooke giggles again and pushes his hand away. "Stop it, Luke."

To prove himself, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a slip of paper. It's faded yes, and wrinkled, and not nearly as beautifully decorated as he had hoped, but there it is. A certificate for a star called "Pretty Girl," with exact telescopic coordinates.

She's silent for a minute as she takes the certificate from him, and by the way they're sitting, he can't see her facial expression. But then she turns to him, her eyes full of tears, and he realizes the gesture may not have been as cheesy as he thought. 

"Luke…"

"Wait." He isn't finished. Pulling her up off the swing, he leads her over to the porch steps, so they're standing in the direct moonlight. Then, with a preparing sigh, he reaches into his pocket once more and pulls out a small box. 

A look of shock registers on her face, but before she can say anything, Lucas opens the box, revealing a white gold banded ring with a star-cut diamond. 

"This isn't an engagement ring, Brooke. It's a promise ring. This past month you have given yourself so selflessly to helping me find my way back to who I am, and not once have you given up on me. I realized a while ago, that when my dreams come true, I want you standing next to me. It's you. And so," he takes the ring out of the box and, with tears streaming down her face she extends her hand and he slips it on to her finger. "I _promise _that I will protect you forever. I will love you _forever. _And not if, but _when _the day comes that I ask you to be my wife, and you say yes, that will be the day all my dreams come true. It's you."

She's crying for real now, and amidst a choked "I love you," she leans up and presses her lips against his. And even without the ring, or the star, or even the promise, she knows that she will love him forever. Because he's the one. 

_I'm so glad we made it_

_Look how far we've come my baby_


End file.
